[Damen is demanding some answers from the advancing group, one hand still clasped over his half-healed wound. He doesn't expect the crowd to part, for a singular, shining gold figure to cut through them easily. His expression changes immediately, relief coming over him like a rising sun, lighting up in his eyes.] Laurent. [He takes a step toward him, the hand with the golden cuff on his wrist raised, and that's when someone shoves Laurent.
He hauls his fist back and punches the offender, hard, with a fist like a softball, sends them stumbling back.] Would anyone else like to lay hands on him?
no subject
He hauls his fist back and punches the offender, hard, with a fist like a softball, sends them stumbling back.] Would anyone else like to lay hands on him?